


Happily Ever After

by itchyfingers



Series: Richard and Layla [6]
Category: Richard Armitage - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Honeymoon, Love, Marriage, New Year's Eve, Romance, Sex, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-06 18:51:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itchyfingers/pseuds/itchyfingers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard and Layla get married!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Christmas Day

Christmas was a huge deal in Layla’s family. Insanely large. So when Richard woke Layla up Christmas morning with her coffee in one hand, her overflowing stocking hung from his other one. Her siblings had sent him an enormous box of things to put under the tree and in her stocking and he had been surprised to see a similar box addressed to Layla arrive at the house which he assumed was full of presents for him. Combined with the weddings gifts that were already arriving, the house was becoming overrun with brightly wrapped packages. He was glad that they had agreed on only one stocking stuffer and one present for each other or there might not have been room in the house for them to live.

They had missed the annual gathering at Layla’s parents’ home to exchange presents among all the siblings and cousins because they had been in Berlin. You weren’t allowed to open them then but Layla’s mother insisted on it being done that way because then all the commercialized Christmas shopping was done enough in advance to allow people to focus on the real spiritual meaning of Christmas. Christmas morning was done individually at each home, and then in the afternoon, everyone went to the parents’ house again for presents from the parents or grandparents and Christmas dinner. Layla still wasn’t sure if they were going to go.

Christmas morning was apparently the one day Layla didn’t need coffee to wake up. She grabbed the stocking from his hand and upended it with a gleeful laugh. Richard joined her on top of the blankets and emptied his stocking into his lap. Layla was already peeling her orange and handed him the first wedge. He picked up the Funko Thorin doll that had fallen out of his stocking. “Seriously?”

Layla dissolved into giggles. “I think we have enough of them to use as wedding favors. Everybody gets a Thorin doll to take home.”

Richard laughed as he scratched his cheek. “I had no idea people were going to take me seriously.”

“Next year ask for Kate Spade.”

Richard snorted, wondering when in the last year he had learned that Kate Spade was a designer and not a gardening tool. “I’ll try and remember that.”

Layla picked up the small envelope that had “Open Me First” written on it in violently green ink in her sister’s handwriting. She pulled out the card and started laughing as she read it. She handed the card to Richard and picked up a tiny squishy present wrapped in holly covered paper.

Richard read the card. “Your sisters and sisters-in-law and James and Patrick and a few other friends had a ‘let’s see who can find the most ridiculous excuse for a pair of knickers’ contest for you for your honeymoon. They’re all wrapped in holly paper if you want to keep them a surprise from Richard. Love, Rachel.”

Richard lifted his eyes from the card just in time to see Layla dangle a collection of black ribbons held together by a postage stamp of fabric from her finger. “I’m not even sure if this counts as underwear.”

He took the strings from her and turned them around in his hands. “How do you put them on?”

“I have  _no_ idea.”

She opened the next one. “Well, this looks more like knickers.” She held up the black lace. “Though it’s my first pair that’s ever had a zipper.”

Richard’s eyes narrowed and he licked his dry lips. “Does the zipper go in the front or the back?”

Layla turned them around and looked at them closer. “The back.”

“I like those.”

She laughed and tossed them to him. “You wear them, then.”

“Oh, no, sweetness. You’re going to wear them. And I’m going to unzip them. Possibly with my teeth.”

Layla shivered and then folded them carefully. “I’ll make sure to pack them in my luggage.”

Richard shrugged and tried for a disinterested tone. “You could just put them on right now.”

“If I model every pair we’ll never get through opening presents.”

“So?”

Layla started laughing. “How about I model your favorite pair  _after_  everything is done.”

Richard sighed deeply and shook his head from side to side before he chuckled. “Fine. You have to unwrap faster then. Have you seen the mountain of presents under the tree?”

“Those aren’t all for me, mister.” She picked up a small rectangular package from the pile in his lap. It was tied with a red velvet ribbon and had an evergreen sprig tucked under the bow. “Here. Open this one.”

Richard untied the knot and opened the small hard case. He looked at the set of tuxedo studs and matching cufflinks and then up at Layla. “Thank you.”

“I thought you might like a new set for the wedding.”

“I don’t own a set so I was just going to rent them. But this is perfect. Now every occasion I have to wear a tuxedo, I’ll be reminded of marrying you.”

“I went pretty classic.” She looked at the faceted mother of pearl in a platinum setting. “I thought you’d be more comfortable with that then something more ornate.”

“They’re perfect, Layla. Just like you.” He kissed her softly. “Now open some more presents.” He smirked and she laughed.

Layla ended up with a pile of knickers; crotchless ones, a pair that tied at each side like a seventies bikini, a pair that the entire back was replaced by a few ribbons that held everything together, several microscopic thongs, and a sheer pink pair that the back tied together in a big satin bow. “I think everyone in my family had to go to confession after buying these.”

“I like your family.” He was surrounded by a mélange of his own presents, everything from a new GPS for hiking so he wouldn’t get Layla lost because then she would never go with him again to  an amazing carving of Thorin the size of his hand.

Layla laughed. “Wait until you see what they got you.”

“I’m sure whatever it is, it will cover more than those.”

“Barely,” Layla muttered. She laughed and picked up another small package. Richard ignored her teasing and went back to assembling the Hobbit Lego playset he had gotten, occasionally swearing under his breath in Khuzdul at the small pieces. The box had been balanced on top of his stocking since it wouldn’t fit inside. Layla had told him that her grandparents got everyone in the family Lego in their stockings, regardless of age. She now had a fashion design studio to play with. He looked up from assembling barrels when he heard Layla sniffle. She wiped at her wet cheek with her hand and handed him the note in her hand. “It’s from my grandmum.”

_Layla,_

_I gave these to your mother, to Pattie, when she went to her first formal dance, just like my mom gave them to me for my first formal dance. I should have given them to you for yours, but I promised that I would never tell you the truth of what happened. Your mother said she would cut me off from the rest of my grandbabies if I did, and I didn’t want to lose them or you. But you know the truth now so I’m giving them to you. Maybe your Richard can take you dancing some night and you can wear them._

_Pattie loved you with all her heart, dear. I so wish things had been different and I had stood up to the priest and to Veronica and to everyone else and let her keep you. Things would have turned out so different._

_Love and apologies,_

_Grandma_

She held out the box when Richard looked up. A simple cluster of gold leaves suspended a champagne baroque pearl.

“We’ll definitely find you a time to wear them.”

“And someday I’ll give them to my daughter.”

He caressed her shaking hand. “Yeah, you will.”

Layla carefully closed the box, the blue velvet faded and worn at the corners, and held it against her heart for a moment. “I wonder if Grandma has any pictures of her wearing them.”

Richard smiled and looked down at the note. “We’ll have to see. Maybe go up for tea some time and look through the photo albums.”

“I would really like that.”

She sat quietly for another minute before she carefully put the small box down, right against her hip. She picked up the last present and unwrapped it. Her eyes widened at the gold HW logo embossed on the small leather box. Richard smiled at her. “It might be a bit anti-climactic after getting your mother’s earrings, but you had said you couldn’t find earrings to go with your wedding dress, so I thought I’d take a stab at it.”

She opened the box, the hinge moving silently, and gasped. “Oh my god.”

Richard waited for her to say something else but she didn’t, just staring with her mouth hanging slightly open. “Will they work? It was a little difficult since I have no idea what your dress looks like. I just picked the ones that seemed like they would go with what I imagined you would wear.”

“These are gorgeous. And perfect. And if they weren’t I would go find another dress so I could wear these they’re so gorgeous.” She still hadn’t looked up from the diamond earrings, large round stones set in an angular halo that dangled from simple wires. “You spoil me, love.”

“Someone should. I’m glad it’s my job.”

Layla hugged him, launching herself at him with such force that she knocked him over into a crinkling pile of wrapping paper and knickers. “I love you so much.”

“Is it time to model unders now?” He smiled hopefully and she started laughing.

“Nope, we have all the presents under the tree to go.”

She dragged him as he pouted out to the living room, lit by the glow of the frosted white lights covering the tree. The sat on the floor and handed each other presents to open, watching as each present was unwrapped.

Layla finally grabbed a big box and shoved it across the floor to him. “This is from my siblings.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s pants.” He unwrapped the box and opened the lid. He pulled out a pair of light blue swim trunks. “I think these are the ones Daniel Craig wore in James Bond.”

Layla nodded, trying not to laugh. “Probably not the exact pair, but fairly similar.”

“I don’t wear swim shorts like this.”

She started giggling. “You do now.”

He looked in the box like it was a crate of venomous snakes. “Are they all like this?”

“I don’t know. I told them no speedos but other than that I gave them free reign.”

He pulled out another pair and sighed in relief when they were a more standard pair of board shorts. By the time he was done pulling out all the different shorts, about half of them were on the short end of the shorts spectrum. “Am I really supposed to wear these?”

“If you want me to wear that extravaganza of non-functional knickers that I pulled out of my stocking, you wear the short shorts. Besides, you know what your thighs do to me.”

His eyes narrowed at the smoky tease in her voice. “So, what you’re saying is I won’t have to wear them very long.”

She nonchalantly looked at the ceiling. “Perhaps.”

“Well, I think I can live with that.”

She handed him another present. “This one is from me.”

Richard smiled at her as he took it from her.

“You are incredibly difficult to shop for.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it.” He carefully undid the wrapping paper to reveal an old copy of  _The Hobbit._ He opened the cover and saw Tolkien’s signature scrawled across the flyleaf.

“You got me an autographed copy of  _The Hobbit?”_

“I wanted to get you an autographed first edition, but apparently those sell for like twice my annual salary, so it’s just old, not first edition.”

“This is amazing. I’ll treasure it.” He carefully stroked his finger over the signature before he closed it and placed it on the coffee table. He searched under the tree to find a specific present amongst the ones still waiting. “This is from me.”

Layla undid the paper and ribbon to find a purple leather bound book heavily inscribed with Celtic knot work and a silver knot work buckle holding it closed. She undid the buckle and opened the journal to find a title page bearing the words, “The Life Story of Patricia Jane Brennan.”

She looked up at Richard in shock and then turned the page and started reading the birth story of her mother. The tears fell unheeded as she read the first few pages and then she touched the baby photo of her mother and a copy of her footprint. “You gave me my mom for Christmas.”

Richard had tears in his eyes. “I couldn’t think of anything else you would want more.”

She licked away the tear that had come to rest in the corner of her mouth as she flipped through the pages, stopping to look at the photos. She stopped at her mother’s graduation portrait. She was wearing the earrings that had been given to her this morning. She stared at it before she hesitantly touched the picture, seeing the same mouth and freckles that stared back at her each morning from the mirror and the same shade of hair. She sniffed and closed the book.

“I’m going to go put on impractical knickers now because I don’t know how else to thank you.”

He took her hand. “Come here.”

She crawled through the crumpled wrapping paper and found her place in his lap.

“I can think of something else you can do to thank me.” He kissed her on the end of her nose.

“What’s that?”

“Say you’ll marry me.”

Her eyes reflected the lights on the tree and lit up his heart. “I’ll marry you.”

“That’s all I need. You in my life forever and always.” He kissed her again.

Layla tightened her arms around him. “Do you realize that a week from right now we’ll be married?”

“I can’t wait.”

“Either can I.”

 


	2. The Rehearsal Dinner

Deciding on who to invite to the rehearsal dinner had been the cause of much discussion. Richard and Layla had finally settled on just one attendant each, Izzy for Layla and Richard’s brother Chris for him. That meant the actual rehearsal was incredibly simple. Richard’s parents, Layla’s father, Izzy, Chris, Richard, Layla, and Ian, who was going to officiate. It took them about twenty minutes to run through the whole ceremony twice, practicing who would say what when. Even though Layla’s father was there, he was going to walk with Richard’s parents. Layla didn’t feel like anyone was really giving her away; she wanted to walk to Richard herself.

They opted to forgo the traditional rehearsal dinner and turned it into the pre-bachelor and bachelorette party dinner. Neither Richard nor Layla really wanted the traditional naughty party, but they had been informed in no uncertain terms that their friends had festivities planned for them. So all of the dwarves from  _The Hobbit_  were coming plus Bilbo and Gandalf and Thranduil, some more of Richard’s friends, all of Layla’s siblings and their spouses or partners, and several more of Layla’s friends from work and college. All in all, by the time Richard and Layla walked into the huge dining room, there were around fifty people there waiting for them.

The rustic French restaurant was aglow with candlelight and a cheer erupted as the two of them stepped into the room. Layla tightened her hand in Richard’s. She hadn’t thought anything would make her happier today than standing across from Richard as the wedding planner ran through the ceremony but feeling the love in this room was a close second. She didn’t think she’d heard half of what the woman had said because all she could concentrate on was Richard’s smile. Someone put a glass of wine in her hand and then they were swept into the milling people. They had decided to do a wine tasting with paired hors d’ oeuvres for the cocktail hour at the dinner rather than at the reception.

Izzy was already talking to Aidan. Layla had told her to be gentle since he had just broken up from his girlfriend and while Izzy was her normal animated self, Aidan wasn’t focusing on her. He kept looking around the room, replying to her periodically with monosyllabic answers. She’d have to go tell Izzy to back off before he got irritated.

She was about to head over and rescue Aidan when Richard whispered in her ear, “Look who just walked in.”

She glanced over her shoulder and almost dropped her glass of wine at seeing her mother standing in the doorway.

“What do you want to do?”

Layla looked up at Richard as his arm enfolded her waist. He was waiting expectantly for her decision, and Layla knew he would do anything she asked of him. They hadn’t gone to her parents Christmas day, not wanting to get in a fight about why her mother was refusing to come to their wedding. This was the first time Layla had seen her mother since the day she found out about her true parentage and all the joy was squeezed out of her heart by an icy fist of anger.

“I’ll talk to her.”

She closed her eyes as Richard kissed her forehead like a blessing before she walked over to her mother. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

Her mother’s eyes flickered to her earlobes, noting Pattie’s earrings dangling there, before she answered. “I was wondering if there was time for me to change my mind and attend your wedding. No matter who gave you birth, I am your mother and I love you.”

Layla hesitated. Rage boiled in her stomach, threatening to spew out a landslide of angry words, demanding to know what in her behavior over almost three decades indicated any sort of love. She had fulfilled a minimal obligation to food, shelter, and educate, but love had never been a meaningful part of Layla’s experience with her mother.

She looked over her shoulder at Richard who was watching her while he chatted with Graham and Jimmy. He raised his eyebrows at her and she shook her head and turned back to her mother. “You can stay. One rude comment, one toe out of line, one insult directed at me or Richard or any of our guests and you will be removed, forcibly if necessary. Understood?”

Victoria’s mouth pursed like a drawstring bag, but she nodded.

“Good. Then please, come in. We’ll be sitting for dinner soon.”

James grabbed her hand as she walked back through the dining room. “You okay?”

She took James’s glass from him and took a long drink of wine. “Mother has decided she’s attending the wedding.”

“How much is that going to mess with the arrangements?”

She shook her head as she stared at her mother talking quietly with her father. “I told the florist to make a corsage for her like the one Richard’s mother is going to have. I figured odds were even that she’d descend from her rooms once she realized how much she was going to miss. She even called me her daughter again.”

James laughed. “Ooooh, that’s a big step.”

“Yeah. I told her she’s on a short leash though. The minute she calls Ian to repentance she’s gone.”

James hugged her. “You go enjoy your party. I’ll keep an eye on Mum for you.”

“Bless you.”

She received another kiss on the forehead as she wrapped her arms around Richard, sneaking them inside his suit coat.

“Is she joining us?”

She nodded letting her cheek rest against the skin exposed by the open collar of his shirt. “For now. If she behaves she can come to the wedding.”

“How long has it been since I told you how beautiful you are?”

She smiled and touched her temple to his chin. “At least half an hour.”

He tipped her chin up with a single finger. “You get more beautiful every time I look at you.” She flushed at his compliment and he smiled. “There. Now you’re looking more like my Layla, happy and smiling.”

Richard’s father, who was technically hosting the dinner, announced that it was time to eat and in the general hubbub that followed, she saw Aidan and Izzy grab seats together at one of the tables, both talking animatedly over the top of each other, and Dean laughing at them. Something had obviously changed.

Dinner was over way too quickly. They would have to come back some time when she could actually concentrate on the food because the rabbit with mustard sauce was delicious. Martin toasted the happy couple in a surprisingly profanity-free speech. He talked about watching Richard ring Layla during shooting breaks and how odd it was to see the normally grumpy Thorin smiling so much. At the end of his speech, he said, “I know some people don’t believe in true love anymore, but the way you two look at each other should serve as proof to the toughest cynic that true love is alive and well.”

Layla’s siblings had drawn straws to see who got to offer the toast from the bride’s side, and the task had fallen to Deborah. Barely nineteen, she had written her toast on notecards to keep from forgetting what she wanted to say, and her hands shook as she held them in front of her. She brushed her long hair back over her shoulder, and Layla couldn’t help but wonder when her baby sister had turned into a woman.

“I was nine when Layla moved away to London to go to university. I don’t really remember much of what it was like for her when she lived at home, but I remember that every time she came home to visit, she never seemed happy. The last few years had been really bad. It was like she was a candle that someone had blown out and I didn’t know what to do to fix it. And then she met Richard and her light was back. She’s never been happier in her life than she is now, so Richard, thank you for re-lighting my sister’s candle and Layla, thank you for letting me know that someday I can be happy like you are now.” She sat down and then popped back up, the color rising in her cheeks. “I forgot. To the happy couple!”

Layla had to wipe the tears away before she took a sip of her champagne. How had everyone known she was so unhappy except for her? She leaned against Richard, whose arm was draped across the back of her chair. “She’s so excited to come housesit for us. I feel bad about making her go back when we come home.”

Richard pressed a kiss to her hair, careful not to disturb her precisely arranged updo. “Why don’t we help her find a flat? Give her first and last, security deposit. I’m sure she could find some friends from school to share it with her.”

“Really? Oh, god, I think that would be perfect.”

“Why don’t you tell her tonight?”

“No, you tell her. She’s your little sister now too. Or will be soon enough.”

The room vibrated with happy chatter as people enjoyed almond macaroons with their coffee, but soon Graham stood and announced it was time for the gentlemen to be departing. The men all slowly got to their feet and Richard leaned over and kissed Layla. “I promise, no strippers.”

She kissed him back. “I promise, no strippers either.”

He made his way over to where Deborah was sitting with James and Patrick and squatted down by her chair. Layla watched as he talked to her for a minute. Her eyes got wider and her smile got bigger, and she squealed in excitement and hugged him enthusiastically, bouncing up and down in her chair.

“Alright,” Martin announced, “Richard say goodbye to Layla since you won’t see her again until the wedding.”

“What? Where are we going?”

Martin laughed at Richard’s consternation. “Well, you’re not going to be back before midnight and you’re not allowed to see the bride the day of the wedding, so kiss her as a single woman one last time.”

“Yeah,” Izzy added, “and both of you turn over your mobiles or you’ll be texting each other all night.”

Layla groaned. “Do I have to?”

Her protest was met with laughter. “Yes, you do.”

Richard handed his over to Jimmy and Layla gave hers to Rachel. “There. Now what are we doing tonight?” she asked.

“We are going for mani-pedis and massages and fancy drinks. Like clubbing, but where all the hot men are doing your toes instead of looking down your shirt.”

Layla clapped her hands. “That sounds perfect.”

Izzy turned to Aidan. “What are the men up to?”

“Man things.”

The room filled with laughter again. “We’re going to go drink whiskey and smoke cigars and play billiards. And I bribed the guy who owns the place to bring in a ping-pong table so Richard can defend his title as Dwarven Champion,” Graham said.

Layla shook her head as she laughed. He was going to have the time of his life. He kissed her one more time. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll marry you tomorrow,” she whispered against his lips.

They reluctantly parted and it wasn’t until she was in the spa chair, one heavily muscled man exfoliating her feet and another giving her hands a paraffin dip that she had time to talk to Izzy. “What is going on with you and Aidan?”

Izzy sighed. “He’s in love.”

“Already?”

“With Sarah.”

“Oh.” She patted Izzy’s hand carefully. “So no dice then?”

“Not with him. And I was soooo looking forward to dragging him into a dark corner and messing up his curls. I guess it’s for the best that he cut his hair.”

Layla’s eyebrow rose. “What do you mean ‘not with him’?”

“Well, I have a plan.”

“Oh holy porpoise on wheels, save us from Izzy and her plans.” She groaned as the young man at her feet found the arch of her foot and began to massage it.

“Hey, my plans work out a lot of the time.”

“So what’s your plan?”

“I’m helping him get Sarah back.”

“How?”

Izzy clucked reproachfully at her. “Don’t you worry your head about it, but if it works out, he said he’d introduce me to Orlando.”

Layla choked on her old fashioned. “Girl, you need to calm down.”

“It’s  _Orlando Bloom_ , though.”

Layla giggled at Izzy’s excitement. She was almost bouncing, just like Deborah had been earlier. “Well, if that doesn’t work, maybe you can get Richard to introduce you to Lee.”

Izzy’s eyes widened like a deer in the headlights. “Really?”

“I swear girl, I’m going to have to chain you up.”

The rest of the night passed in a cloud of pampering and gossip. Layla had a lace French manicure and her toes painted a sheer sparkly gold and she made it back to her room at the hotel slightly before one am. She had gotten a fit of giggles as she passed the ballroom that would be the site of her wedding ceremony that night and hummed “Here Comes the Bride” as the lift quietly climbed to the highest floor. She had just finished changing out of the glittery dress she had worn for the evening when there was a knock at the door. She wrapped her robe around her and opened the door to see Richard standing there, his suit coat draped over one arm, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows.

“Fancy a nightcap?”

She grabbed the front of his waistcoat and pulled him inside her room. She could taste the whiskey and smoke on him as she pushed him up against the door and kissed him. “Maybe more than just a nightcap.”

He draped his coat over the back of one of the chairs and pulled the loose bow she had tied in the belt of her robe. It fell open to reveal an almost completely sheer white teddy. “Definitely more than a nightcap.”

She smiled as he pushed the robe off of her shoulders and let it slip down her body to the floor. “I thought you might want one last fling as a single man.”

He trailed his finger over the lace covering her breast. “Maybe more than one.”

“You have to go back to your room when we’re done.”

He picked her up and carried her to the bed. “I’ll leave when the sun rises, and a not a moment before.”


	3. The Wedding

Layla paced outside the closed doors to the ceremony, running over her vows in her head. It had seemed like a good idea at the time to say she wouldn’t need prompting, but right now Layla could barely remember her own name. The procession started in three minutes. She knew that inside the string quartet was transitioning from Bach’s “Air on a G String,” a title that usually made her giggle but right now didn’t even elicit a smile, to his “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring.” and all she could think was that she was going to faint. Her dress hugged her torso like a boa constrictor, and the tiny little straps felt like they were slicing into her shoulders.

Izzy took Layla’s hands. “It’s going to be fine. You’re not going to trip. You’ll remember your vows. Richard is waiting for you right on the other side of those doors.”

Layla took a deep breath and blew it out, ruffling the short blusher veil that barely covered her chin.

“Good. Now take another breath.” Layla’s perfectionist tendencies had gone into overdrive in the last few weeks. She’d completely changed the ceremony décor three days before Christmas. Two days ago she had called the florist and revised all the flowers, worrying that the simple white bouquet of cabbage roses was too casual to go with her dress and would be lost in the pictures. This afternoon Izzy had watched Layla try on all six pairs of high heels she had brought to the hotel and helped her choose which pair to wear. Luckily for her own sanity, that part of the maid of honor duties had been shared with Layla’s sisters and friends who had been invited to the bridal suite to get ready with her, even if they wouldn’t officially be bridesmaids. Layla had hired a fleet of hair stylists and makeup artists, and as each woman had her hair done, the stylists incorporated flowers into their hair matching the ones Layla would be carrying in her bouquet.

Layla took another breath, held it for a moment, thought of Richard standing up in front of the assembly of family and friends glowing in the candlelight, and felt the knots in her shoulders unwind. There was no more time to worry and fret and examine every detail one hundred times over. The wedding planner was getting the parents into place to walk down the aisle, and Izzy reached up to smooth the short veil one more time and check that no curls had escaped the low, off-centered bun.

“You look perfect. Richard’s gonna cry when he sees you or I’ll eat my bouquet.” She handed Layla the bouquet of white orchids, freesia, roses and stephanotis, the stems elegantly wrapped in gold ribbon. “I love you, girl. Everything’s going to be perfect. You two are going to be so happy together.”

“You have Richard’s ring?”

Izzy held up her hand, showing her the platinum band around her thumb. “Wouldn’t forget that.”

She went to stand by Chris as the wedding planner got them all lined up. Layla stayed out of sight as the doors were opened and the quartet started with Bach’s “Sleepers Awake.” They had worked out all the timing yesterday at the rehearsal and Layla listened to the gorgeous trills of the violin as she watched Richard’s parents, and then her parents, and then Chris and Izzy walk through the doors. She had been backstage at press events enough with Richard to know he had been pacing nervously just a few minutes earlier just as she had been, but now he was standing inside, waiting for her to appear. If everyone had followed their cues, Izzy and Chris were now in place as the music shifted to a minor key and she took her place at the doors. A rustle swept through the room as everyone stood and turned to face her. She counted to three and stepped into the room.

It was lit by the softly glowing chandeliers overhead, dangling crystals reflecting the light and scattering it like tiny drops of sunlight. The aisle was bordered on both sides by frosted glass pillars with candles inside that made the whole cylinder glow. The room was golden in light a few shades darker than the champagne they would drink later, and as much as she had agonized over the décor, Layla found that it didn’t matter at all now. All she could see was Richard. Tiny bubbles trickled up over her heart, replacing any last lingering nervousness with joy as his smile disappeared behind his hand and tears filled his eyes as she walked towards him. He had wondered what she would wear and had never been able to decide even on the most basic details, but seeing her in the long curvy column of white as she came towards him, he couldn’t imagine her dressed any other way. She was beautiful and sexy and bridal and his. He rubbed his cheeks and then smiled at her as she came closer, and when she was a few carefully timed paces away, he walked to her, not willing to wait any longer. They hadn’t rehearsed that part, but it felt completely natural to place her hand in his and walk the final few steps together. They stopped in front of Ian right as the music hit its triumphant crescendo and came to an end.

“Family and friends,” Ian intoned, with all the joyful solemnity that only he could convey, “we gather here at the end of the year to witness the wedding of these two people. As one year changes into another, these two people will change into another version of themselves. A better version of themselves. They will become committed above all to the happiness of the other, and as they honor that impulse within themselves, they will weather any storm that may come. And so I ask now, who comes to witness as these two people give themselves to each other?”

Everyone answered, “I do.”

Ian nodded in acknowledgement of the massed answer before he turned to the two people in front of him. “Richard and Layla, it is an honor to be asked to officiate at your wedding tonight. I always feel a little bit like God when I do this, and if I were God, I suppose it would be within my power to give you a perfectly happy future, where all of your dreams come true. But I am not God, and even if I could, I am not sure it would serve you to give you a perfectly happy future.”

“Both of you have heartache in your past. You have been maltreated by those who should have loved you. You have faced betrayal and pain. And because of that, you treasure the honesty and safety that you find in each other. You must remember what you have left behind so you will truly value what is ahead.”

Richard and Layla looked at each other. He could see the tears in her eyes through the almost invisible film of her veil, even as she smiled at him. She was so unfailingly honest with her emotions that she laid herself bare in front of him, knowing he could hurt her in so many ways, and yet she always trusted that he would never harm her. He promised himself again, as she stood at his side in white silk and pledged herself to him, that she would never have cause to believe that trust misplaced.

“Today, many people choose not to marry but you two have decided to take this extra step, to declare your love in front of those you love and those who love you. Marriage is a choice and your marriage will be full of choices. You cannot choose the challenges that will come to you, but you can choose how you face them. Always choose to face them together.”

Layla squeezed Richard’s hand. She didn’t think they were supposed to be actually holding hands during the ceremony, but there was no way she was going to let go of him. They were doing this together, as they had faced the challenges of the last few months and the trials that would come in the years ahead. She had felt so alone for so long, and now she knew that she would never be alone again.

Graham stood and moved to the front to read, his usually gruff demeanor softened by a normally hidden streak of sentimentality. Layla didn’t know what the reading would be. They had each chosen one reading for the ceremony and Richard had chosen this one.

 

> “From “The Irrational Season” by Madeleine L’Engle.
> 
> But ultimately there comes a moment when a decision must be made. Ultimately two people who love each other must ask themselves how much they hope for as their love grows and deepens, and how much risk they are willing to take…It is indeed a fearful gamble…Because it is the nature of love to create, a marriage itself is something which has to be created, so that, together we become a new creature.   
>   
>  To marry is the biggest risk in human relations that a person can take…If we commit ourselves to one person for life this is not, as many people think, a rejection of freedom; rather it demands the courage to move into all the risks of freedom, and the risk of love which is permanent; into that love which is not possession, but participation…It takes a lifetime to learn another person…When love is not possession, but participation, then it is part of that co-creation which is our human calling, and which implies such risk that it is often rejected.”

Layla blinked back the tears that filled her eyes. How much of the love in her life had been predicated or denied based on possession. Her mother had been denied her because of possession, her adopted mother had refused her loved because of who she had belonged to, Joshua’s love had been about owning her. But here with Richard she found a love that she could participate in. He didn’t want to own her, he wanted to cherish her and to create a life with her.

Graham sat back down and arranged his kilt over his legs as Ian returned to the officiant’s position.

“As a promise of their commitment to each other, Richard and Layla will now exchange vows.”

Layla handed her bouquet to Izzy and turned to face Richard who took both of her hands. She took a deep breath, and sought for the words that had fled her mind. Richard smiled at her, and instantly she knew what to say. “My life since I met you has been so different that I feel that I can divide it into two parts, before Richard and after Richard. But while there may have been a period of my life that was before you, there will never be a moment after you, because I love you now and will love you forever and you will always be the keeper of my heart.” A single tear slipped down her cheek as her voice broke on the last few words.

“I, Layla Jane O’Connoll, love you, Richard Crispin Armitage, and I take you as my husband, and give you myself as your wife for the rest of time and for eternity after.”

Richard’s eyes never faltered from hers as he began to speak.

“Time can destroy almost anything. It wears away mountains, buries civilizations, and divides continents. But time cannot destroy the love I have for you, Layla. It will make it stronger, deeper, purer, and more beautiful.”

Another tear fell, echoing the one on his cheek.

“I, Richard Crispin Armitage, love you, Layla Jane O’Connell, and I take you as my wife, and give you myself as your husband for the rest of time and for eternity after.”

There was a long moment of silence as they continued to look at each other, and Ian felt like an interloper when he finally spoke. “As a token of their love for each other and a symbol of their commitment, Richard and Layla have chosen to exchange rings at this time.”

Layla was glad she had remembered to move her engagement ring to her right hand as Richard slipped the band of diamonds onto her finger. “With this ring, I thee wed.”

Izzy handed her Richard’s band and she took his hand. Her fingers shook as she slipped the hammered band into place, her thumb brushing against the tiny platinum ropes set into the ring. “With this ring, I thee wed.”

This time it was Richard’s turn to be surprised as James stood and moved to the front to read. His hands shook but his voice was clear.

 

> An excerpt from “Plato’s Symposium”   
>   
>  Humans have never understood the power of Love, for if they had they would surely have built noble temples and altars and offered solemn sacrifices; but this is not done, and most certainly ought to be done, since Love is our best friend, our helper, and the healer of the ills which prevent us from being happy.   
>   
>  To understand the power of Love, we must understand that our original human nature was not like it is now, but different. Human beings each had two sets of arms, two sets of legs, and two faces looking in opposite directions. There were three sexes then: one comprised of two men called the children of the Sun, one made of two women called the children of the Earth, and a third made of a man and a woman, called the children of the Moon. Due to the power and might of these original humans, the Gods began to fear that their reign might be threatened. They sought for a way to end the humans’ insolence without destroying them.   
>   
>  It was at this point that Zeus divided the humans in half. After the division the two parts of each desiring their other half, came together, and throwing their arms about one another, entwined in mutual embraces, longing to grow into one. So ancient is the desire of one another which is implanted in us, reuniting our original nature, making one of two, and healing the state of humankind.   
>   
>  Each of us when separated, having one side only, is but the indenture of a person, and we are always looking for our other half. Those whose original nature lies with the children of the Sun are men who are drawn to other men, those from the children of the Earth are women who love other women, and those from the children of the Moon are men and women drawn to one another. And when one of us meets our other half, we are lost in an amazement of love and friendship and intimacy, and would not be out of the other’s sight even for a moment. We pass our whole lives together, desiring that we should be melted into one, to spend our lives as one person instead of two, and so that after our death there will be one departed soul instead of two; this is the very expression of our ancient need. And the reason is that human nature was originally one and we were a whole, and the desire and pursuit of the whole is called Love.”

This is how he had felt before her, like part of his soul was missing, and since she had drunkenly inserted herself into his life, he had never felt alone again. She was truly his other half, and he was hers in the same way. He couldn’t imagine his life anymore without her at its center.

James sat back down and Ian took his place one last time. “Richard and Layla, you have chosen this day to pledge yourself to each other with word and token in front of this congregation that stands witness. You have been given counsel and I encourage you to watch the film of your wedding at some future date because right now you’re too caught up in the moment and each other to pay attention to anything anyone but your beloved was saying.” Layla giggled and the whole congregation laughed which made her laugh even harder and rest her head against Richard for a moment.

“But if I can have just one moment of your attention, let me offer one final word of advice. People say that they fall in love and then they say that they fall out of love as if they had no control over the matter, as if it were a puddle they stepped in. Love is not a puddle. Love is an ocean. You have waded into the ocean, and now I encourage you to start swimming. Strike out for the horizon and never look back. Escape the shore so the only thing you can see is each other. Stay there. If you stay where the only thing that exists is each other and your love, you will never fall out of it. You cannot fall out of the sea unless you chose to swim for the shore. Hold on to each other in the middle of the ocean and you will never sink, and you will always be in love.”

They linked their fingers together and Richard whispered, “Always in love.”

“Now, the part you two have been waiting for. You may kiss each other as a final show of your commitment.”

Richard lifted her veil and smoothed it back over her hair. He took a moment to look at her face, to memorize her glow, the way she shone with happiness, and tears threatened to fall again. He cupped her face gently in his hands and softly brushed his lips against hers. Layla wound her arms around his neck and kissed him, her lips slightly parted, and their tongues briefly touched as he dropped his hands to her waist. Though his lips felt the same, there was something indescribably different about the sensation they caused in her, an extra soupcon of delight added by the knowledge that he was her husband now. They kissed again, and his arms tightened around her, pulling her close, and then another kiss as he ran a hand up and down her back, surprised at the feel of lace and buttons. He kissed her one more time before he reluctantly let her go to the point where he was only holding her hand.

“Friends and family, I present the happy couple, Richard Armitage and Layla O’Connoll Armitage.” They both grinned as the applause started and the quartet began Handel’s “Hornpipe” from Water Music. They looked at each other, sharing one more radiant smile before they hurried back down the aisle together. They exited the ball room and he picked her up and spun her around as he kissed her, unaware that the doors framed them perfectly for everyone to see them celebrate, not that he would have cared if he had known. Nothing mattered now but kissing his wife.

Chris and Izzy came out behind them and Izzy grabbed Layla’s elbow as Richard put her down. “We need to go change.”

“Right now?” Richard asked.

“Yes. She has to change for the reception.”

“So do you,” Chris added.

“Can we change together?” Richard asked.

“You mean by yourselves? Absolutely not! You’d never show up at the reception.”

Layla giggled and the wedding planner shooed them over to the lift so they would be out of sight before any of the guests exited.

In the lift, Richard gathered Layla into his arms. “You’re putting this back on tonight.”

Layla giggled and kissed him. “I bought lingerie, darling.”

“I don’t care. Tonight, I’m going to help my wife out of her wedding dress. We’ll stay at the reception until one minute after midnight, and then you’re mine.”

She smiled and kissed him again, a familiar slow heat already building in her body, stoked into readiness by the sweet rough whisper of his voice against her ear. “I’m already yours. For all of time.”

“And for eternity after.”


	4. The Wedding Night

The room glowed, both with light and with happiness. Richard and Layla had eschewed the traditional reception setup and instead were having a cocktail party. The gilt framed mirrors on the dark walls reflected back the smiles and candlelight, and guests were dancing, or chatting at high tables, or stretched over dark leather couches and gold velvet settees.

Ten…

Layla spun in a circle to take it all in. Everyone she loved was there. Izzy over in the corner flirting with Graham. Graham? When did that happen? Aidan dancing with his Sarah, the first real smile she’d seen on his face since Berlin. When did  _that_  happen? Her siblings and his friends all mingled together, glasses of champagne in hand, the cake mostly eaten, the canapés still being passed. She snagged something delicious off of a passing tray and popped it in her mouth. It was the first thing she’d fed herself all evening. Everything else had been delivered by Richard’s hand.

Nine…

Richard tightened his arm around Layla’s waist. He hadn’t let her go since she had changed into her new dress. They had been swept into a separate suite for photographs, twenty minutes of formal portraits with their parents and Chris and Izzy and her siblings, and then everyone else had been shooed out and it was the two of them in front of a backdrop, where the photographer said to ignore him and just be in love and he would get the pictures he needed, and then another five minutes on a balcony overlooking London’s lights where Layla had snuggled into his chest to get away from the cold and he had taken off his tuxedo jacket and wrapped her in it, and a last five minutes to get all the specific detail shots Layla had wanted, including one of just his hand putting a “Do Not Disturb” sign on the closing hotel room door. And then the photographer had called Izzy and Chris back in and they had been separated so she could change and actually put on another dress, which wouldn’t have happened if they had been left alone.

Eight…

When she had come back out of the bridal suite, he had lost his breath again. The veil was gone and so was the white dress, and now she was in a sheath of gold sequins swathed in tulle and she had gone from his bride to his goddess with a single costume change. He adjusted his cuff links and stood up as she walked towards him and he brushed his fingers over the golden ribbons wrapped around her hair. “My very own Aphrodite.”

She had adjusted his tie and smoothed her hands over the front of his waistcoat. “I shan’t be so foolish as to say you are more handsome than Adonis, but damn, you look good.”

Seven…

His suit coat was missing now. Layla had no idea where he’d put it. It had gone missing at some point after they had done their first dance to “Dance Me to the End of Love,” with as much of a tango flair as she could manage in her dress. As they had danced their way through the evening, reluctant to relinquish each other for any other partner, she had loosened his tie and he had rolled up his sleeves, the citrine cufflinks safe in his pocket. He took a sip of his champagne and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat and Layla stared, transfixed at the way his throat emerged from his open collar.

Six…

She took this glass from him and took her own drink, letting the blackberry drop into her mouth. She sucked on its plumpness, letting it burst on her tongue, drenching her taste buds with the wet tang of juice and alcohol.

Five…

One minute. He had promised her they would leave one minute after midnight, promised himself he would wait until after midnight to pull her away from the party, but as he watched the golden bubbles spill into her mouth, and the soft little sound she made as the blackberry surrendered to her touch caressed his ear, even the five seconds until midnight seemed like an eternity to wait.

Four…

She handed his glass back and their fingers interlocked around the crystal stem. “I love you so much, Richard.”

Three…

“I love you, my sweet Layla, my sweet wife.”

Two…

She rubbed her cheek against his hand and closed her eyes. A vision of her last New Year’s Eve popped into her head, at a party with Joshua and his friends. Or rather at a party with Joshua’s friends. He had disappeared somewhere and she had stood with a bottle of some forgettable local microbrew in her hand as the fireworks had gone off on the telly, completely alone. Never again. Richard’s thumb brushed against her cheek and she opened her eyes to smile at him. Never alone again.

One…

What a difference a single year made. Last New Year’s Eve had been completely forgettable, but this one he would always remember.  And who knew what the year ahead of them would bring? He rubbed his thumb against his wedding band. Everything was different now. Everything was better.

Happy New Year!

The band struck up “Auld Lang Syne” and balloons in white and gold and ivory fell in clouds around them as they kissed. His hand wrapped around the back of her head, letting everyone else sing about forgotten friends. She held onto his tie, surrounded securely in his embrace. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes,” she whispered back, her lips brushing against his as they talked. He caught the wedding planner’s eyes and nodded. She nodded in return and went to find the photographer. A few minutes later they were running down the steps of the hotel through a gauntlet of guests creating a glittering arch of sparklers for them. Layla’s laughter rang in his ears as he helped her into the back of the waiting vintage Rolls Royce. She turned around and waved out the rear window as they drove away before she relaxed into his side and pulled his arm tighter around her shoulders.

“This part makes me feel like a spy.”

He chuckled. “Yes, very Lucas of us.” They had told everyone they had booked a suite at an unnamed hotel so they wouldn’t be disturbed my mischievous friends. Really, the chauffer was just going to drive around for ten minutes or so and then drop them off in the parking garage under the hotel and they would take their lift back up to their room with no one the wiser. It was easier that way than having luggage scattered across the greater London metropolitan area.

She rested her head against his shoulder and he kissed the top of her hair, his fingers idly stroking over her bare shoulder. They didn’t kiss, content to hold hands and let the hubbub of the last several hours fade from their minds and dissipate from their bodies.

When they exited the lift on the top floor of the hotel, they were both surprised to see Izzy waiting for them outside their door.

Layla laughed at the triumphant expression on her friend’s face. “How did you know?”

“Because I promised to take your dresses back to your house tomorrow and you didn’t tell me where else to pick them up.”

Richard mimicked stabbing himself in the chest. “Her love of fashion has undone us.”

“And here’s your coat.” She handed Richard his jacket. “I wasn’t sure how much you two managed to actually eat, so I had the caterer put together a meal for both of you. It’s in your room. There’s also a bottle of champagne, in case you didn’t have enough already.” She squeezed Layla in a hug. “I couldn’t bear to let you go without getting a chance to actually say goodbye.” She let her go and wiped away a tear. “You two have fun on your honeymoon, and I want some of the details when you get back. And I’ll check in on Deb for you while you’re gone.”

Layla hugged her one more time and kissed her cheek. “Love you girl. I wouldn’t have gotten through the last three months sane if it hadn’t been for you.”

“You two go have fun.” Izzy headed towards the lift and Richard slid the key into the lock and opened the door before he scooped Layla up into his arms and carried her across the threshold. The door clicked shut behind them as he lowered her carefully to her feet. He clasped her face in his hands as he kissed her, letting his coat fall to the floor. Layla didn’t even notice, or if she did, she didn’t care about the wool silk wrinkling on the floor. She pulled at his tie, letting it unravel in her hands as their mouths touched and tasted each other anew, learning the way that the events of the night had been engraved on their skin.

His hands went to her hair, pulling out pin after pin, dropping them unheeded to the ground. He unwound the ribbons and pulled out the hair ornament and ran his fingers through her hair until her curls fell around her shoulders and down her back, transforming the goddess back into his wife.

“My wife,” he murmured against her mouth.

“My husband,” she replied, undoing the buttons on his waistcoat and then his shirt, revealing his skin to her one slow inch at a time. She kissed his throat, his Adam’s apple as he swallowed, across his shoulders as she pushed his shirt off and then down his arms. She placed a soft kiss over his heart. “My husband,” she repeated, emphasizing the last word and then kissed his mouth again. “My husband,” she whispered, stressing the word ‘my.’

He was her husband. Hers. All hers. She felt the sting of tears and pushed them back as she wrapped her arms around him again. She would be perfectly content to stand here and kiss him all night, enfolded in his arms, the feel of his chest under her hands, his curls in her fingers, but as she tasted him again, suckling his bottom lips, tugging at it with her teeth for a sweet moment, she felt his hands at the clasp of the strand of jewels around her waist. They loosened and he dropped them on his suit coat and stepped her further back into the room.

This was a different type of tango than they had performed down stairs. One step backwards and his hand moved to her waist, another and he tugged down the hidden zipper, and he spun her around and pulled her back against his chest. He eased her dress down her body, his hands skimming over her curves, and his fingers danced back up her stomach, his hands closed over her breasts as she reached behind herself and buried her fingers in his hair.

His tongue brushed against the shell of her ear and he whispered, “My wife.” He kissed down her throat and he said it again, against her collarbone as he kissed the fine scattering of freckles that adorned her. He squeezed her breasts and murmured the words against the nape of her neck, her curls giving way to his persistent need to touch her skin.

He turned her around again and another step back. She extricated herself from the circle of her dress around her ankles, the sparkling points of her heels marking a path across the deep carpet as he danced her with kisses and touches and deep whispered love towards the bedroom, and she followed his lead, letting her leg wrap around him as he would pull her close for a moment, simply letting their bodies press against each other, their hearts dancing together as their skin touched.

She undid the buckle on his trousers the next time he pressed against her, and when he turned her around again so he could kiss the back of her neck, she undid the button and pulled down the zip, one hand between their bodies, one hand clasping his head. Richard toed off his shoes as his hands found her breasts again, letting her beautiful curves fill his hands, savoring the weight of them before he stroked his thumbs over her nipples, finding them already hard. One hand slid down over her silken stomach and closed over the white silk knickers, the tips of his fingers pressing between her legs.

“Let me make love to you, my wife.”

Layla nodded as he sucked at the skin right below her ear, and he picked her up again. She kicked off her heels as he carried her into the bedroom, and they fell silent to the carpet. He placed her carefully on her feet at the edge of the bed and took out her earrings with a kiss on each lobe before he knelt at her feet. His fingers hooked into the edge of her knickers and he began to edge them down her legs as he kissed her stomach. As his hand lowered, so did his mouth, until he pressed the tip of his tongue between her folds and rubbed it against her clit.

Layla gasped. Even knowing what was coming didn’t allow her to prevent the spark of energy that shot through her, setting all her hair on end. She slipped her fingers into his curls as he continued to lick, his hand sliding back up her leg and pressing against her inner thigh, widening her stance so he could better touch her. She looked down at him and found herself lost in his eyes. He watched her, as he licked, as he sucked, as he dipped his tongue inside of her, as her knees went weak and she grabbed his shoulders, as the flutter of his tongue against her swollen clit caused her body to tense in response to the growing need in her groin. He watched her as he slipped a finger inside her, as she called out his name, as he crooked and stroked and twisted while he sucked harder. He watched her as he added another finger into her dripping heat, as her body went rigid, her head fell back, as she rubbed against his mouth. He watched as she came, becoming a statue for a few brief moments, caught in the moment of delight, as her body shook, her chest heaved, her lungs burned.

He lowered her to the bed and gathered her in his arms. Their legs braided around each other as they kissed, in no hurry to move on from the perfection of each other’s’ mouths.  Layla could feel his cock hard against her stomach as their bodies pressed against each other, and he could feel her wetness against his thigh, but he couldn’t tear himself away from the pleasure of her mouth, the sweet kisses of the woman he loved like no other. He finally bent his head to her breast, kissing the creamy flesh. He adored her breasts, not just her achingly sensitive nipples, but the perfect curve of her skin, the swell and peak, the warmth and give under his hands or mouth, and he kissed all of her breast before he finally flicked his tongue against her nipple.

Layla ran hands over his shoulders, his back, loving the heat of his skin and the move of his muscles as he wrapped his arm tighter around her, arching her back against his mouth. “Richard,” she sighed, “make love to me.”

He kissed up her throat, pressing her onto her back, and her legs wrapped around his hips as he moved onto his knees between her thighs. Layla caught his lips with her teeth for a moment, the need in her body building again as the rough hairs on his legs brushed against her skin. “I love you, my Layla,” he said as he pressed against her. She shifted her hips up and he began to sink into her, slowly, oh so slowly, watching the look on her face as she gave way beneath him. That look of pure bliss was his nirvana and he lost himself in it as she took him into her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, keeping him right where she could kiss him, not wanting him to get distracted by her breasts, or pull away so he could watch her come undone without surrendering himself to the same sensations.  They moved together, always together, until there was nothing left but each other, all they could see was each other. The room around them, the bed underneath them, it all disappeared, and it was just Richard and Layla, together. Always together.


	5. The Honeymoon

Layla collapsed face first onto the bed, the crisp cotton sheets deliciously cool against her warm skin. “I don’t think I have ever been this relaxed in my life.” The sweet scent of the orchid in her hair wafted around her in the gentle breeze blowing in through the open doors.

Richard stretched out next to her, undoing the knot over her hip that held her pareo in place. “You want to just lay here until supper?” He was similarly sprawled, the massage they had both enjoyed leaving him as languid as she was.

“Mmmmm.” She could see the deep green of the volcano rising up from the sparkling water from her place on their bed. “I think if I jumped in the water right now I would drown.”

“No drowning on the honeymoon. Drowning is bad.”

She plucked the flower from her hair and placed it on the pillow before she turned her head to look at him instead of out over the water. “Why did you choose Bora Bora? I know how much you dislike water and yet you chose a bungalow built over a lagoon.”

He rolled onto his side and trailed his fingers up and down her side. “Well, there’s a few reasons, you in nothing but a bikini for ten days being among them.”

She kissed the edge of his smirking mouth. “What else?”

“You wanted something I’d never done with anyone else, and this is definitely not something I’ve ever done.”

Layla’s eyes clouded. “How is Irene? Have you heard from her lately?”

“She’s doing well. The chemo is working and the doctors are cautiously optimistic.”

“That’s good.”

“Mostly though, I know how much you love water. You would never get out of the bathtub if you had your way and this way you have an entire lagoon to splash about in.”

The dimple flashed in her cheek as she smiled. “I’ve loved playing in the water with you. Snorkeling was amazing. I’ve never seen so many colors of fish. And the sharks! And I got to touch a sea turtle! And those surfboard paddle thingies. Seriously, it’s been unforgettable. Not just for the water. Getting to spend so much time with you with nothing else to do but enjoy ourselves has been heavenly.”

“Well, it does help that I’m not in a barrel, there’s almost no current, and it’s only four feet deep where we are. I found myself a kiddie pool version of the ocean. That way we’re both happy.”

“Can you imagine teaching our kids to swim here? We could get a bungalow up closer to the shore and let them paddle in the water.”

He placed his hand over her stomach, his fingers spread wide. “Do you think there’s a little one swimming around in there right now?”

She placed her hand over his and watched them move with her breathing. “There’s no way of knowing for a few weeks. But if not, it’s not because we didn’t give it our best.”

He kissed her shoulder, her freckles more prominent from all the time they had spent in the sunshine over the last week. The scent of the coconut oil the masseuse had used clung to her skin. “We should keep trying. You know. Just to be sure.”

She giggled at his attempt to appear disinterested in making love to her for reasons other than procreation. “We are still allowed to have sex just for fun, you know, my love.”

She felt his grin against her skin. “Would you like to have some sex just for fun right now, sweetness?”

She laughed and combed her fingers through his hair. The sea air enhanced his curls and she couldn’t keep her hands out of it. “How ‘bout I just lay here while you stick it in and wiggle it about?”

His laughter filled the air. “Like you could just lay there if I did that? You’ve always been so astonishingly sensitive to my touch.” He pulled the end of the white string holding up her top and let the knot unravel and she shivered as the cord brushed against her back.

“Your touch. Your voice. Even the thought of you.” She ran her fingers over his chest, the hair tickling against her fingertips. “I had no idea what love was until I met you. I think that’s why I stayed with Joshua for as long as I did. I didn’t know what I was missing. And then I found you. Or you found me.”

His eyes were a deeper blue than the water outside as he kissed her gently. “We found each other.”

She traced the line of his throat with her finger. She loved his neck, the sculptural quality of the the tendons and muscles giving it a unique topography. “Remember when you came over with the vase and asked me out on an actual date?”

“And you turned me down?”

She laughed, her cheeks pinking with heat. “Luckily you changed my mind. You said that maybe you could turn one of the worst days of my life into one of the best.”

“How did I do?” He trailed his hand down the line of her spine before spreading his hand over her bum.

“Each day keeps getting better and better.” She brushed her finger over his bottom lip.

He let her touch his face, stroke her fingers over his body, add kisses to his skin like she was discovering him anew. “How did I get so lucky to have you in my life?”

“You sat down next to the drunk girl and were kind to her.”

“You’re as intoxicating as the scotch you were drinking that night.

Her brows rose. “You remember what I was drinking?”

“Scotch neat. I remember everything about that night.” He pressed his lips against her earlobe. “And the next one.” He began to kiss down her neck.

“That was the most amazing sex I had ever had in my life. Like, seriously. I didn’t know it could be like that.”

He laughed, more than a little pride filling his chest. “And now? Where does it rank?”

“Each time keeps getting better and better.”

He kissed her shoulder and tugged down the front of her bikini top. His hand closed over her breast. “Shall we try and set a new best?”

“I think that sounds like a delightful way to spend an afternoon.”

And it was.


	6. More Honeymoon

Richard and Layla laid in the shade of the cabana on their deck, sharing a large lounge as they hid from the noon sun and shared a plate of fruit and cold drinks. Neither one of them had bothered putting on clothes after washing off the salt after their adventure swimming with dolphins in the morning, taking advantage of the privacy walls to laze together unhindered by the swimsuits that had become their uniform over the past nine days. “It’s a pity we’re leaving tomorrow. I have at least four bikinis I haven’t even worn yet.”

Richard trailed his fingers down her back, her skin taking on a golden hue at the end of their holiday. “You do know you can wear bikinis in London, right?”

She rolled over onto her side so she was facing him. “Yes, but it won’t be the same in the cold and dreary.”

“I bet your nipples would look fantastic in a bikini in the cold and dreary.” He flicked a fingertip gently against one.

“Yes, I can see me now in a bikini in Brighton when it’s all of 10 degrees out.”

He smiled, still looking at her breasts. “I’d like to see that.”

She laughed and pushed him over onto his back before she knelt over him. “You like to see me regardless of weather or place.” She kissed the tip of his nose.

“Or what you’re wearing. Or not wearing.”

“It’s a good thing I feel the same way about you.”

He stroked his hands up her sides, brushing against her breasts, and then sliding them back down to rest on her hips. “It could be rather inconvenient otherwise. Imagine how awkward it would be with me showing up in waistcoats and rolled sleeves all the time and you just ignoring me.”

“I couldn’t ignore you. Especially in a waistcoat and rolled sleeves.”

He grinned up at her. “I know. I’ve found your kryptonite.”

“And yours is stockings and high heels,” she replied triumphantly as she laid back down, stretching like a sleepy cat.

“My kryptonite is you. Regardless of what you are or are not wearing. For example, I particularly like this naked you’re wearing right now.”

“Mmmm, yes.” She struck a pose for the non-existent photographer. “This naked is quite the thing. Been getting rave reviews all week every time I’ve modeled it.”

“Model it for me again.”

She giggled and dropped the artificial stance. “Again?”

“Yes. It’s more beautiful every time I see it.”

Layla tapped her lips with a finger as she thought, wanting to do something she hadn’t before, to give him a special memory of their last day together in paradise. She smiled before she plucked an ice cube from her drink and sucked the sticky drops of her beverage from it. Richard watched as she stroked it across her pursed lips and then trailed it over the point of her chin and then down her throat. Drops of water were left behind, pooling in the hollow at the base of her throat and sparkling along her collarbones. She drew the shrinking ice cube down between her breasts, and then across the swell of her breast. She shivered and Richard shuddered as she ran the cube in a lazy circle around her nipple, and then across the stiff peak.

Richard licked the water from her skin as she left the cube to finish melting over her nipple. He sucked it into his mouth and Layla grabbed a handful of his hair as he rubbed the cube against her with his tongue. The contrast between his hot mouth and the freezing water arched her back and he grasped her other breast with his hand, kneading it as he sucked and kissed mouthfuls of her curves.

Layla plucked another ice cube from the sweating glass and placed it between Richard’s fingers that were spread around her nipple. He held it in place as it melted, the water dripping down and across her stomach and starting to fill her navel. When her warmth had reduced the ice to droplets clinging to her skin, he took her breast into his mouth. He could never get enough of her breasts, soft and warm and heavy in his hands, and he felt compelled to worship them with his hands and mouth, not a nice sedate English worship service, but something ancient and primal, a personal Bacchanal each time he touched her, feasting on her flesh.

She said his name and he looked up to see her place an ice cube between her teeth. He surged up her body to kiss her, taking the ice from her. It chilled his tongue as his mouth moved across her throat, and he left the last sliver to melt at the base of her throat. He plucked another ice cube from their drinks and holding it in his teeth, left a wet autograph across her stomach before letting it dip into her navel.

Layla gripped his hair as he left the ice to melt on her stomach and his warm mouth went back to her breasts. His teeth scraped and his tongue lapped and his hands covered and grasped and clutched and then he reached over and grabbed another ice cube. He licked the puddle of water at her navel before popping the ice cube into his mouth, and with a cheeky smile, started to kiss downwards. Layla levered herself up on her elbows as he stroked his hands up the inside of her thighs, spreading her legs for him as he bent and pressed a cold kiss to her damp skin.

He watched her as his lips teased along her body, nuzzling his rough chin against the sensitive skin, tasting that delicate spot where her thigh gave way to her core in a lovely dip and hollow behind the tendon, and the sweet line of her opening before he pressed hard enough to bathe his cold tongue in her heat. The ice continued to melt on his tongue as he pressed the back of it to her clit, not wanting to startle, just wanting to stimulate. The soft sighs of delight she made as he began to let the cold dribble across her fire, the way her nails scratched against his scalp, and the final gasp as he pressed a tiny sliver of ice to her clit raged through him like a storm, setting his hair on end and his cock to hardening.

He grabbed the glass and pulled it close as he extracted another piece of ice. He held it between his teeth and pressed it against her pussy and her hips rose up off the lounge and her voice choked off as she tried to call his name. He opened her with it, letting it push in and then pulling it out a few times before he pressed it in and then pushed it deeper with his tongue. It lasted only a few seconds against her heat before she was dripping and he ran another piece of ice up her thigh as he gave her a moment to regain a little bit of sanity before he lowered his mouth to her again. He took the ice from his fingers and ran it over her skin, carefully holding it in his teeth. She shivered as he pressed it between her folds and rubbed it gently over her clit. The soft touch had her gasping for air and he touched the cube to her one more time before he sucked it and her clit into his mouth.

Like so often when it came to him, she started something and he ran with it and left her a panting mess as he instinctively knew how to bring her to a gasping, whimpering puddle of pure bliss. Layla was trying to deal with the competing sensations of hot and cold, the hard ice and softer tongue, the rasp of his beard and the grip of his fingers on her hips as he held her up to him, drinking her like she was champagne. And then he moved up to kiss her, and wrapped his arms around her, and his hand cradled her head as he rolled them, and she ended up straddling his lap as he sat on the corner of the lounge.

“I love you, my Layla.” His arm tightened around her back as she wound her arms around his neck.

“I love you too, my Richard.” She rubbed against him, the warmth of his chest against hers and his legs between her thighs quickly driving away the remaining chill.

His fingers tightened on her bum and he lifted her so he could press the head of his cock against her. “Come on, sweetness. Let me fuck your hot little pussy.”

His words made her shiver, every nerve on end like touching a live wire. Her hands tightened on his head as she slowly slid herself down onto his cock, a piercing whine vibrating her throat. She clasped him closer as he stretched her open and his fingers dug even deeper into the curve of her arse as he thrust up the final inch to bury himself within her welcoming body. She started to ride him, and he helped her move, his hand on her bum lifting her with each rock of her hips, knowing that she would lose the focus needed to keep her body going as the pleasure began to drip through her veins like a euphoric IV.

Layla’s eyes rolled back in her head and her eyes closed as she hugged him to her. His face was pressed against her throat as he tasted her skin and whispered words that scorched her. Her cheek rubbed against her forehead with his every thrust, and between his groaning breath blowing across her skin, he would talk to her.

“Remember the first time we had sex, Layla? You were so fucking hot. Your pussy was so wet and tight and hot around my cock.”

Layla whined as she bit into her bottom lip.

“And I learned that first night what a perfect naughty girl you can be, didn’t I?”

She nodded desperately, not wanting him to stop talking.

“I can’t hear you, dahlin.”

“Yes!”

He nipped at her throat. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, Richard,” she whimpered.

He grasped her hip, freezing her in place. He tipped her face so she was looking at him and kissed her softly. “Yes, what?” he repeated gently.

Layla sunk herself into the warm tropical pools of his eyes, surrounded by the buoyant peacefulness of his love. “Yes, my husband.”

His arms tightened and he stood and carried her to their bed. “That’s right, Layla.” He fell with her onto the bed and grabbed her arms, pinning her wrists with one large hand. “I’m your husband and you’re my wife.” He sank himself into her anew and she groaned, her eyes closing again as she stretched to accommodate him at this new angle. She locked her ankles around his waist as he started to move. “You’ve been my naughty girl, and my sweetness, and my best friend and the love of my life, and now you’re my wife as well.” He brushed her hair back from her face, the auburn curls even more unruly than normal in the tropical heat. “I’m the luckiest man in the world, Layla. The luckiest man in the world.”

“Almost as lucky as I am, love.” She kissed him softly, the sudden swirl of intimacy temporarily swamping the lust burning in both of them. “Now fuck me until I can’t even remember my name, lucky man.”

He nipped at her bottom lip. “As madam requires.”

She had thought he would speed up, but he took his time, pulling almost all the way out and then sliding back in, pressing her open time after time until she was writhing against the sheets. Her fingers curled helplessly, grasping for anything to hold onto as he undid her slowly and deliberately, watching her arch and squirm. He began to move faster after she began begging, pleading with him to make her come, and he spread his hand over her stomach and brushed the pad of his thumb over her clit. She bucked helplessly at the touch and he bent to kiss her.

“Come with me, Layla.” He let go of her wrists and rested his hand on the curve of her waist, stroking the soft skin. “This isn’t about me making you come, this isn’t about you making me come. Together, dahlin.”

Her lips were dry from her heavy breathing but they were still heaven for him as they kissed. One of her hands found its way into his hair as she wrapped her other arm around his waist.  He kept circling her clit, the tremors in her stomach letting him know exactly how close she was to losing control. She felt him thicken and throb and clenched around him, precursor to what her body would do unconsciously in just a few moments. He groaned against her throat, having dropped his head as he thrust deeper and harder, making her slip against the sheets. Her toes curled and so did her fingers, leaving red welts along his back as she stuttered his name.

“Yes, Layla, just like that. I’ll meet you there.” Her head fell back as she cried out, her legs frozen around him as he pounded out the last handful of thrusts he needed to come with her, her name sweet on his tongue. Her body shook as he slowed and when she stilled he gathered her into his arms and stroked her hair.

She felt his heartbeat calm and steady under her ear as she drew random designs on his stomach. “I guess I  _could_  wear a bikini in London for you. A nice warm bath and a heat lamp and some mango gelato and I can pretend I’m back here.”

“I can pour some salt in your bath if it would help.”

She laughed and buried her face against his chest for a moment. “No salt, silly. A sea turtle would be fun, though.”

“How about a rubber duck?”

“A rubber duck would work.”

He kissed her softly on top of her head. “I’ll see what I can do.”


	7. Saturday, 18 January, 2014

Layla sat on the toilet and stared at the rubber duck sitting on the edge of the bathtub. It was less nerve wracking than looking at the little piece of plastic in her hand. Yesterday had been Friday and she had worn a brand new pair of expensive white lacy knickers to guarantee that the fates would bitchslap her hopes right on time if they were going to do it at all. She had excused herself to the loo at ten am to check. No blood. The only other time she’d ever missed ten am on Friday was when she had found herself unexpectedly pregnant with Richard’s baby. She’d checked every hour on the hour for the rest of the workday, and when she and Richard had gone to a film that night, she left to go to the loo half way through. Still no blood.

She had leapt out of bed the moment her eyes had first fluttered this morning, and now she sat, counting the seconds in her head and staring at a rubber duck. There was a knock on the door and she jumped. “I’m peeing!”

“No, you’re not. You’re waiting for the pregnancy test to develop.”

Layla squinted at the closed door. “How do you know that?”

“One, I can count days just like you. Two, you got out of bed before me. Three, on a weekend.”

Layla stood and attempted to lean casually against the counter. “Fine. Come in.”

Richard opened the door to see Layla standing so stiffly she was about to shatter, a white plastic stick gripped so tightly in her hand that her knuckles were almost as pale as the test. He pried her fingers loose and placed the test face down on the counter. “Come here.”

She walked into his arms and smushed her face against his chest. “Thirty more seconds,” she muttered. His hands trembled as they combed through her curls, trying to give her a calmness he didn’t possess himself as they waited for the time to pass.

Eventually she looked up at him, her eyes wide. He nodded and she turned in the protective circle of his arms and reached for the test. Her hand was shaking as she turned it over.

She looked at the stick and then at Richard’s reflection. He swallowed and stared at the stick for a few more seconds before he lifted his eyes to hers. The smile on his face convinced her she wasn’t imagining things and she dropped her gaze back down to the stick. “Two lines,” she murmured.

“Two lines,” Richard repeated as he pressed his lips to her temple. He spread his hand over her still flat stomach. “Two lines.”

She turned back around and flung her arms around his neck. Her legs wrapped around his waist and he grabbed her bum, holding her tightly. “We’re going to have a baby,” she whispered against his throat.

He cradled her head with his hand, looking at the two of them in the mirror. Her in his faded green tee and lacy white knickers, wrapped around him body and soul, with the flicker of new life deep in her belly. Him with his hair askew and a few days of beard, holding his heart in his arms. Her fiery curls stood out like a corona around his hand and brushed against his face and arm. He smiled at his reflection as her tears anointed his neck. This was a moment he would never forget, even without a photograph. This was the moment he fell in love with Layla all over again.


End file.
